


My True Love Gave To Me

by bluebeholder



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Destiel Advent Calendar 2016, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Family Bonding, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Snowball Fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 21:35:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8817016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebeholder/pseuds/bluebeholder
Summary: It's Christmas. Dean has a ring in his pocket and a question for Cas.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, everybody! I think this is the first proper established relationship fic I've actually written and posted. How weird is that!?
> 
> The song playing in the library is “Don’t Wait ’Til The Night Before Christmas”, one of very few pop songs recorded in the 1930s that had “Christmas” in the title.

“We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas...” 

Sam’s voice echoed through the Bunker, accompanied by the clatter of the Christmas ornaments he was busy hauling up from the storage closet where Mary had stumbled across them earlier. Dean, half buried under a big Christmas tree, peered through the branches as Sam clomped into the room with yet another box. 

“…we wish you a merry Christmas, and a happy New Year,” he sang, setting down the box. 

“Nice song. Mind giving me a hand?” Dean asked, with only slight peevishness. 

Sam grinned. “Not at all,” he said, and came over to help Dean get the tree upright and into the tree stand. 

“Thanks,” Dean said, and then shut his mouth to stop a branch from intruding where it definitely didn’t belong.

“So,” Sam said, slightly muffled by the branches, “what did you get your angel for Christmas?”

Dean wrestled the tree into the tree stand, shoving it with maybe a little more force than necessary. “He’s not my angel,” he grumped. He very pointedly didn’t think about the tiny box crammed into his pocket, because this would be just the inconvenient moment when Sam would develop mind-reading powers.

Sam stepped back, picking needles out of his hair. “Yeah, Dean,” he said. “Whatever you say.”

“Sam, I’m warning you…” Dean let go of the tree. It swayed dangerously for a second, but then stabilized. Good. That thing had better not come down, not after all the work Dean had put in to get it upright in the first place. “And yeah, I’ve got everyone’s presents picked out. Have you? I mean, I’d hope so, Christmas is tomorrow.”

“Mostly,” Sam said. He was already opening a box of lights, looping them over his shoulders like some kind of weird boa. “Waiting on some stuff, but same-day shipping is a gift of the modern world.”

Dean picked up another box of lights and started untangling them. “Slowpoke,” he teased. 

“Aw, shut up,” Sam muttered, throwing a bag of extra lightbulbs at Dean’s head. “And…how many times have you forgotten Christmas?”

“You—” Dean started, but just then a door banged open and Mary, Claire, and Cas tumbled inside with the snow on their heels and grocery bags in their hands. 

“We’re home!” Mary called over the railing.

Sam waved up at her. “Hey, Mom,” he said. 

Claire thumped down the stairs. “Someone come get these damn grocery bags from me,” she said loudly.

Dean set his pile of lights carefully under the tree and went to help. “Jeez, did you buy the whole store?” he asked, taking half of Claire’s bags.

“Just about,” Cas said. He had grocery bags going up both arms, but it didn’t even look like an effort for him to carry them. “Let’s get these to the kitchen.”

Dean bumped his shoulder into Cas’s as the angel passed, a nudge of affection that Cas returned with a glance and a smile. Dean followed him into the kitchen and set down the bags on the table, while Cas set his burden down by the counters.

“How’s the weather out there?” Dean asked, turning to Cas. 

“Mary says it’s awful, but I disagree,” Cas said cheerfully. He brushed snow off his shoulders. “I think this is the best weather I’ve seen in a long time. So much snow!”

Dean smiled. “Good,” he said. “We can have a snowball fight later.”

Cas tilted his head and squinted. “I’ve seen those on TV, usually in cartoons, but I frankly don’t see the appeal,” he said. 

“Oh my God, Cas, you really gotta get out more,” Claire said, coming in with Mary. “Even I’ve had snowball fights.”

“You’ve never had a snowball fight?” Mary asked, opening the fridge door to start putting away cold groceries. “Really?”

“Really,” Cas said. He stepped out of the way, letting Dean past to start dumping flour into the appropriate Tupperware bins. “Why would you go out and get cold deliberately like that?”

“Because it’s fun!” Sam shouted from the library. 

Cas rolled his eyes and folded his arms. Dean patted Cas on the back sympathetically. “We’ll have one later, and then you’ll see,” he said.

“I hope so, because if I don’t, you get to figure out how to save me from death by hypothermia,” Cas said balefully.

Still a bit shy, Dean leaned forward and pecked Cas on the cheek. “I won’t let you get that cold,” he said, under his breath so only Cas would be able to hear him.

Cas looked at him and smirked. “I know,” he said. 

“Gross,” Claire said in a sing-song voice. 

“Shut it, kid,” Dean said. 

Mary tossed a packet of paper napkins at Dean’s head. He snapped a hand up and caught them before they hit him. “Quit canoodling and put these away, Dean,” she said. 

“Whatever, Mom,” he said, but stepped away from Cas and put the napkins away.

“When you’re all done in the kitchen,” Sam said loudly from the library, “could you just maybe come help me untangle these Christmas lights?”

***

Two hours later, the tree was decorated. Claire and Cas had ended up wrapping the lights while Mary, Sam, and Dean picked out the ornaments for the tree. It was Cas who unveiled the piece de resistance of the season: one of those Christmas tree ornaments that doubled as a photo frame, with a photo of the five of them in it. 

“This is lovely, Cas,” Mary said, hanging the ornament right in the front of the tree. 

“It seemed fitting,” he said. 

Dean threw an arm over Cas’s shoulders and leaned into the angel. “And it looks nice.”

“Very retro,” Claire agreed. 

Sam stood up and stretched. “So, who’s up for going outside?” he asked casually. There was a glint in his eye that Dean recognized.

“You challenging us to a snowball fight, Sammy?” he asked.

“Bring it, Moose!” Claire said, and bolted for the stairs. 

Mary laughed. “What did she call you?”

“Moose,” Sam said long-sufferingly. “It’s a long story. But Dean is Squirrel.”

“Like…Rocky and Bullwinkle?” The conversation faded out of Dean’s earshot as Mary and Sam picked up jackets and scarves and gloves and headed up the stairs. 

He turned to Cas and took the angel’s hand. “Come on,” he said. “It’ll be fun.”

“Your concept of fun is often skewed, Dean,” Cas said, but he followed Dean to the stairs and let Dean wrap a scarf around his neck and put mittens on his hands. 

“Just give it a shot, okay?” Dean said. 

Cas shook his head and tugged a hat down over Dean’s ears. “You need to keep warm,” he said.

Dean pulled Cas in by the scarf and kissed him again. They were just getting to the good part when Claire yelled down at them, “Are you two coming or not!?”

“We’re on our way!” Dean hollered back. He grinned at Cas. “Hope you’ve got some angel mojo to use on this, ’cause you’re gonna need it.”

***

This had been a warm autumn, but when winter hit it had hit hard. There was plenty of good, wet snow heaped everywhere. The only tire tracks on the road were the Impala’s tracks, and those were half filled in. 

Sam was already across the road, piling snow into a mound. “What the hell is that?” Dean asked.

“It’s a snow fort!” Sam shouted, breath steaming in the air. 

“Who needs a snow fort?” Mary asked. She was up on the hill already, packing snowballs and stacking them in a weird lopsided pyramid. 

Cas shivered and stamped his feet. “Let’s get on with this.”

“Duck!” Claire shouted. Dean, well-practiced in snowball fights, dropped into a crouch. But Cas didn’t, and took a snowball right to the side of the head.

“Nice aim!” Sam cheered. 

Dean laughed. “She got you good, Cas,” he said. 

Cas shook his head and knocked the snow out of his hair. His brow furrowed in determination. “I would run, if I were you,” he called to Claire.

“Oh crap,” Claire said though her laughter. She turned and ran up the hill into deeper tree cover, Castiel giving chase with a pile of snow in his hands. 

Dean realized that now was the time to get out of sight. He slid down into the ditch, where he wouldn’t be easily visible from the road. The snow was easily over his knees down here. The wind had blown it into deep, well-packed drifts. He started packing a snowball. It was kind of lopsided, but who cared? It wasn’t like aerodynamics played a role in snowball fights anyway. 

He poked his head up over the edge of the ditch. Cas was still running after Claire on the hill, flinging handfuls of snow at her without bothering to pack them into snowballs, while she laughed and failed to protect herself from the onslaught. Sam was crouched behind his “snow fort”, industriously making snowballs and totally ignoring Dean. 

Dean sneaked up the side of the ditch. Sam clearly suspected nothing, and Dean wound up, ready to let the snowball fly—

—and someone else’s snowball whapped into the middle of his back. Dean yelped and jumped straight up in the air while Mary cackled. 

“She got you good, Dean,” Cas said with a smirk, wandering into the road.

“Mom!” Dean howled, heedless of his volume. He was grinning, though, as he turned and hurled the snowball that had been meant for Sam right at Mary. She dived out of the way, sliding across the snow of the road, already scooping up more for another snowball.

“Very nice throw, Dean,” Cas said, sidling up to Dean. 

Sighing, Dean turned to Cas. “Would’ve been better if I’d—” he started, and then Cas planted a handful of snow right into Dean’s face.

***

“Who’s up for hot chocolate?” Dean asked as everyone walked inside. He brushed the last of the snow out of his collar.

“Me!” Sam said, hand shooting up in the air. 

Claire toed off her boots. “Yeah, hot chocolate sounds good,” she said. 

Mary unwound her scarf from her neck and draped over a coatrack, where it dripped on the floor. “If you’re offering, sure,” she said. 

“Of course,” Cas said. He rubbed his hands together. “Can I help?”

Dean linked his fingers lightly with Cas’s. “As long as you don’t eat all the marshmallows,” he said, at which Cas smiled, and followed Dean down the stairs and into the kitchen. 

Together, elbows bumping and shoulders knocking as they worked, Dean and Cas mixed up five mugs of hot chocolate with plenty of marshmallows. The kitchen was filled with the rich smell of melting chocolate and the soft scent of marshmallows. They brought the hot chocolate into the library, where Mary, Sam, and Claire were camped around the tree. All the lights except for the Christmas tree lights were off, and it looked like something out of a postcard. Claire had a fluffy blanket wrapped around her shoulders and her Grumpy Cat on her lap. Sam was singing along to some old record crackling on the gramophone, something about how they shouldn’t wait for the night before Christmas to be good. Mary had her scrapbook open in front of her, working on a Christmas-themed page. 

When everyone had hot chocolate, Dean sat down next to Cas, leaning into the angel’s solid shoulder. Cas scooted closer to Dean’s so that they were flush against each other, and Dean felt his cheeks heating up from more than just being back inside. He took a long drink of hot chocolate to disguise the blush.

Apparently it didn’t work because when Claire looked at him she giggled. “You two act like teenagers in love,” she said. “It’s kinda…cute.”

“Thank you for your impressive analysis of the situation,” Cas said dryly. “Please, share some more insight with us.” He squeezed Dean’s hand and Dean grinned in amusement. 

“Leave them alone, Claire,” Mary said. “It’s Christmas.”

The doorbell rang suddenly, and everyone jumped. Dean’s hand flew to his waistband, where his gun was tucked out of sheer habit, but Sam was already on his feet. “It’s the UPS guy!” he said loudly, running out of the room. “Sorry, I need to take care of this!”

“…did he seriously leave present shopping that late?” Claire asked. “Seriously? It’s the night before Christmas!”

Mary laughed. “It must run in the family. One year, John and I had to go present shopping in January because we completely forgot Christmas,” she said. 

“I think it is a Winchester thing,” Cas mused. He glanced at Dean, eyes sparkling with mischief. “From what Sam’s told me, Dean’s a regular in the forgetting Christmas department.”

Dean kicked Cas lightly on the shin, hampered by the awkward angle of sitting right next to him. “Whose side are you on, anyway?” he asked.

Cas leaned his head on Dean’s shoulder. “Yours, always,” he said. Dean sighed, weirdly content even though he normally didn’t like sappy stuff in public, and scooted closer to Cas.

“Jeez,” Claire muttered, but she was smiling.

Sam came back into the room, carrying a pile of messily wrapped boxes in his arms, which he stacked under the tree. “There we go,” he said, obviously pleased with himself. 

“Should we all open one present tonight and open the rest tomorrow morning?” Mary asked. In Dean’s pocket, he felt the box nudge him, as if in reminder that it was there. 

“I like that idea,” Cas said. He sat up and reached out, pulling a present from under the tree and passing it to Mary. “You should open this one first.”

Mary passed a gift to Claire, Claire passed one to Sam, who passed one to Dean. Dean hesitated for a split second, part of him wanting to pull that box out of his pocket, but then he gave a different box to Cas. He’d wait until later for the little box. Something in him didn’t want to pass it over in front of everyone else.

When they were finished opening gifts, with packages open and some wrapping paper scattered around the floor, Mary yawned. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m headed to bed,” she said. 

“Yeah, me too,” Claire said, getting to her feet and stretching. 

“I’m gonna stay up for a bit,” Dean said quickly. 

Cas gave him a curious look, and nodded. “So will I,” he said.

“Don’t stay up too long,” Sam said. “Remember, Santa’s coming tonight!”

“Go to bed, Sammy,” Dean said, chucking a ball of wrapping paper lazily at Sam, who laughed and ducked out of the room. He started singing a Christmas carol as he clomped down the hall. 

“I’ve never seen anyone more excited about Christmas,” Claire said. She bopped Cas affectionately on the head with her Grumpy Cat as she passed. “’night, Cas.”

Cas turned and watched after her. “Good night, Claire,” he said. Dean’s heart just about melted from the look of fondness on Cas’s face. 

“Good night, Dean,” Mary said, walking past.

“Night, Mom,” Dean said. 

Then it was just Cas and Dean, sitting beside each other under the Christmas tree. 

“This is a good holiday,” Cas said softly, taking Dean’s hand. “But I still don’t see the point of snowball fights.”

“You had fun, don’t lie,” Dean said, elbowing Cas without letting go of the angel’s hand. His heart was beating a faster, because now that everyone else was gone he was going ahead with his plan. 

Apparently it was audible in his voice, because Cas gave him a weird look. “Are you all right, Dean?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. He took a deep breath. “I just…had a present I wanted to give you, not in front of everybody else.”

Cas furrowed his brow. “Go on,” he said. 

With a little fidgeting, Dean got the box out of his pocket. “Look,” he started, “I know this is going to sound completely crazy. But I’ve been thinking, and even though we’ve only been…together-together for a while, we’ve really kind of been together since…”

“Forever,” Cas supplied when Dean’s silence went on too long. Dean handed Cas the box. The angel held it like it was something small and precious, watching Dean carefully. 

“Cas…” Dean said. He paused, ran a hand through his hair, and tried again. “Cas, you’re my best friend. I love you, you know?”

“I know. And I love you,” Cas said. He looked down at the box in his hands. “Should I open this?”

Dean nodded. He hadn’t really wrapped the box, not really—it was just a kind of messy ribbon tying it shut, now squished flat from spending all day in Dean’s pocket. Cas still handled it like it was professionally wrapped, carefully undoing the ribbon, unpicking Dean’s terrible knotty bow and curling it into a circle. He opened the box. “Oh,” he said, staring at the contents with an inscrutable expression.

“Oh?” Dean forced himself to not just get up and run away. 

Cas took the rings out of the box. They were just plain gold bands, because Dean was not a particularly creative man when it came to matters of the heart, and also because Dean used to wear rings and if he was going to do it again he was going to wear a ring that wouldn’t end up nearly breaking his finger in a fight. From the way Cas handled them, he knew exactly what they meant. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just looking at the rings, and then at Dean. “Are you sure, Dean?”

“I wouldn’t have gotten them if I wasn’t,” Dean said. “It’s not like we can really, y’know, tie the knot or anything, but…”

“I understand,” Cas said, and smiled so brightly that the Christmas tree looked dim by comparison. He slipped one ring onto his finger, and the other onto Dean’s. And then he leaned forward and kissed Dean. 

“Merry Christmas, Cas,” Dean whispered.

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” Cas whispered back. 

Dean took Cas’s hand, and felt the rings clink against each other, a reminder that from now until forever, they were together.


End file.
